by Trent Reedy
I lifted the machine gun and pointed it out the gun port. “Hey!” I yelled. The Fed soldiers stopped where they were, and suddenly I remembered what the ROE card told us to shout. “Halt! You are not allowed to enter Idaho!” Then I added, just in case they hadn’t spotted me, “I’ve got you all covered with an M240. Get back on your side of the line. Now!”
The first soldier motioned them ahead and ran toward the cliff. Shoving was out of the question. Was it time to shoot? I had my orders. I could not allow these soldiers to enter the state. I’d fire, not to hit anyone, but enough to show I meant business and to scare them back into Washington.
I aimed the weapon for what I hoped was a point about ten feet in front of the lead soldier. I had maybe a minute before he’d be too close to the cliff and under cover. I had to fire. I had to shoot now. Now. “God forgive me,” I whispered. I pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. “Damn it!” I clicked the safety to fire, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jerked as it blasted rounds downrange. Puffs of dust popped up where the rounds impacted, a littler closer to the squad than I had hoped. I squeezed the trigger again, walking the impact back from the squad, but making sure the rounds hit close enough to scare them away. The noise was deafening inside the bunker, the tracers making red-hot streaks through the air. “Get back on your side of the line!” I yelled over the roar. “Get back! Get back! Get back!”
I let off the trigger. The machine gun was supposed to be fired in three- to five-second bursts to save ammo and so the barrel wouldn’t overheat and melt. Some of the federal soldiers had run back to the tree line and were firing at me. Muzzle flashes sparked back in the shadows under the trees. Their bullets cracked against the rock wall in front of my position, rock chips flying everywhere.
But their lead soldier was rolling around on the ground, screaming and holding his leg. I’d hit him. Oh God, I’d hit him. More shots rang out from the trees. This time, like an idiot, I ducked. Could they see me? Could they get a good shot? If I got the machine gun back up in my firing window, would they have me pegged?
The lead soldier kept screaming. Another crawled out across the clearing. “Hang on, buddy, I’m coming!” he shouted.
“Get the hell out of here!” I yelled as loud as I could, putting the machine gun aside and grabbing my M4. I could aim and control the M4 a lot better. “Get back on your side!” I sighted the rifle, aiming about six feet in front of the crawling soldier. I fired. The crawling soldier covered his head. I let go three more rounds, walking each shot in a little closer until he started crawling back.
Another machine gun opened up from their side of the woods. I could see the flash, then suddenly I was in the snare drum from hell as bullets pelted my bunker. How long before some of these rocks cracked and the wall began to crumble? Would those logs overhead come crashing down on me? I couldn’t let that happen. I grabbed the 240, jumped into the firing window, and opened up, aiming for where I thought the machine gun had fired from.
Forgetting the barrel, I kept the trigger squeezed, and the end of my ammo belt approached. I had another, but it would take forever to reload with no other cover fire. Then I saw puffs of dirt and dust shoot up from the ground on the Washington side of the border, and twigs and small branches started falling off the trees there. The other half of my squad must have finally woken up and started shooting.
I fired off the rest of my belt, concentrating on the tree line but keeping my eye on the crawling soldier and the wounded guy. Wounded Guy was still moving, but not as much, and he didn’t seem to be yelling anymore.
When my ammo was gone, I grabbed the second belt, but in the pause between the other team’s bursts of fire, I could tell the Fed was no longer shooting back. Instead, I heard the moans from the wounded man.
These guys were idiots for crossing into Idaho. If that soldier weren’t already bleeding, I’d want to punch him for making me have to shoot. But he was still an American soldier, just like me. He had sworn to protect his country, he had a family somewhere, and he was bleeding bad. I could see the redness from up here. I thought of that girl lying dead on the ground in Boise and how I had been too late to help her. I couldn’t let that happen again.
I grabbed the radio and keyed the mike. “Three one bravo, this is three one alpha. Cease fire! Cease fire! I’m going down there! Three one alpha, out.”
“Negative, three, one, alpha.” It was PFC Nelson on the radio. “Do not go down in that valley. Maintain position, over.”
Nelson could stuff it. No way was I going to sit up here and watch that soldier bleed out. I dropped the radio, slung my M4’s strap over my right shoulder, grabbed our medkit and an extra Freedom Lake sweatshirt, and ran out of my bunker to the path below, scrambling down the steep embankment. I waved the white sweatshirt above my head. “Cease fire! Cease fire! I have a medkit,” I yelled as loud as I could, hoping they could hear me all the way back in those trees. With my weapon slung and no cover, these guys could pick me off easy.
A couple shots went off, and shards of rock hit me as the bullets struck nearby. I dropped to the rock face, skidding and tumbling the rest of the way down. I pulled out my M4 and pointed it at the trees, stupidly standing ready for a fight I could not win.
When no shots came, I ran to the wounded soldier. Another soldier ran from the Washington trees, waving a white rag over his head. “Medic! Medic! Don’t shoot! I’m a medic.”
When I reached the wounded man, acid burned in my throat as I looked at him. A pink-white bone flashed through the torn flesh of his leg, and deep-red blood soaked the dry grass around him. I could see he was slipping out of consciousness. Bleeding out.
“Come on, buddy, stay with me,” I said, ripping open my medkit and pulling out a field dressing. “You’re good. Breathe and stay with me.” We’d been over combat field medicine in basic training a hundred times. Now I had to do it for real.
When the other soldier skidded to a halt next to me, I looked up only long enough to catch sight of his rank. If this specialist wanted to shoot me or capture me, I was in trouble, but right now all I cared about was saving this guy if I could. “I’ll try to stop the bleeding,” I said.
“I’m going to run an IV.”
I ripped off the paper and spread out the gauze pad. “Sterile side to the wound,” I mumbled.
“Can you handle that?” said the medic.
“Yeah, I got it, damn it. Get the IV in him.”
The wounded soldier coughed and rolled his head around a little, floating on the edge of consciousness.
“Hey, buddy, stay with us,” I said. I wrapped the green cloth bands around the back of the leg and brought them up to cross over the center on top of the white bandage pad. Then I looped both straps again and tied the ends. “We need you to stay awake. We’re going to get you fixed up and back to a hospital. No problem.” If the bleeding didn’t stop, I’d have to apply a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blood flow. If I did that, this guy might live, but he’d lose his lower leg.
The bright crimson blood soaked into the bandage, dulling to a sort of brown, but that was to be expected, right? Doing this stuff in training was a lot different from doing it in real life. “Here.” I stood up and held out my bloody hands to the specialist. “Let me hold the IV bag. Can you check this bandage? I can’t tell if it’s stopping the bleeding enough.”
The medic handed me the bag before inspecting my bandage. “You did a pretty good job.” He straightened my ties a little. “I think this is going to work. I think he’s going to make it.”
I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. He’d live. I wouldn’t have his death on my conscience. I smiled. I knew I was right. Soldiers are soldiers, and America was still united enough for me and this medic to save this guy’s life.
“No thanks to you.”
“What?”
I opened my eyes to see the medic with his nine mil drawn.
“Oh shit,” I said. “You gotta be kidding me.”
He kept his weapon aimed at me and wiped his nose with his free hand. “You’re under arrest for shooting my squad leader. And I’m sure my chain of command will be happy to hear we finally have PFC Wright in custody.”
“I wasn’t even aiming at him, you dumb son of a bitch! I was just trying to scare you guys, make you go back to your side. If you’d stayed over there, he’d be fine.”
The specialist shook his sidearm. “Slowly lower your weapon to the ground.”
I bit my lip and tried to focus, tried to keep my legs from shaking. I was glad that the soldier I’d shot was okay, but I still felt like a moron from one of those zombie apocalypse movies who wanders off alone and foolishly trusts some desperate psychopath in the woods. Stupid mistakes like that always end up getting people hurt.
“I’m not joking!” the specialist shouted. “Put your weapon on the ground or I’ll shoot you right here.”
“Hey, Wright! You okay down there?” Luchen called down.
The medic risked a look up. I grabbed my rifle by the end of the barrel and swung it like a baseball bat into his wrist. His nine mil went flying. I gripped the rifle barrel with both hands and jabbed it at the medic hard, crunching the stock into his nose. Blood exploded from his face and he fell backward. “Luchen, cover me!” I shouted as I ran, picking up the medic’s sidearm and the first soldier’s M4 before scrambling up the steep rocky path to my bunker.
Safely behind the cover of our fighting position, I sat in the dirt and rested my head back against the rock wall. While I was in the valley, my whole team had crammed into the tiny space, along with Staff Sergeant Donshel, First Sergeant Herbokowitz, and Captain Leonard. We watched the line until the bleeding medic carried his wounded comrade back into Washington.
“What happened?” Captain Leonard asked, and I told him the whole story.
After I finished, the first sergeant frowned. “Next time, don’t try to be a hero. Someone says not to go down there, then you damn sure better stay up here. Got it?”
“Yes, First Sergeant,” I said.
“You stopped an incursion, saved that soldier’s life, and captured two good weapons.” Captain Leonard smiled at me. “Good work, Wright.” He patted me on the helmet as he walked out of the bunker with Herbokowitz.
“Why don’t you take some downtime, Wright? Come with me. We’ll make sure you get some chow and plenty of water.” Donshel held out his hand to help me up. I took it and followed him away from our fighting position down toward the TOC tent near the wire obstacle.
“The commander is talking about organizing a Quick Reaction Force that would always be on standby to back up any fighting position if something like this happens again. I’m sorry you were on your own like that, Wright. I’ll make sure someone has your back from now on, I promise.”
I didn’t answer. I was still so hopped up on adrenaline that I barely trusted myself to speak.
Donshel put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, you need anything?”
I licked my lips. “Like to use my comm,” I said. “Make a call.”
“Yeah, sure. There’s a charging station inside the TOC if the power’s low.”
“Thanks, Sergeant,” I said.
Donshel nodded. “But I meant what I said. Chow first, and drink at least one CamelBak of water. Then you can make that call.”
About twenty minutes later, I climbed up into the Beast to call Mom in private. When the audio connected, though, it wasn’t Mom’s voice on the line.
“Danny?” said a woman.
Where the hell was Mom? Had the Feds arrested her for some reason? “Who is this?” I said. “Where is Kelly Wright?”
“Whoa, relax. Is this Danny?”
Even if this was a trick, there was nothing the Fed could gain if I confirmed what they already knew. “Yeah, this is PFC Wright.”
“I’m Sarah. Your mother has been staying with me for a while. Your mom’s fine. She’s in the shower.”
“Why do you have her comm?”
“Listen, I’m sorry if this is freaking you out, or if this is an invasion of privacy or something, but I think we have a problem. It’s your mother.”
“Is she okay? Is she having an attack?”
“She’s fine! She’s fine. But … Danny, she’s packing her bags. She’s paid someone to drive her up near the Idaho border. She’s going to try to sneak across the line.”
“What!? Don’t let her!” Anything could happen if she tried that. The whole border was lined with anxious, trigger-happy soldiers. Idaho Guardsmen could mistake her for the Fed. The Fed could figure her for a smuggler or a Guardsman. My uniform was still stained with the blood of soldiers who had tried to cross the border this morning.
“That’s the thing. I don’t think she should try to cross the border by herself, but she also can’t stay here. It’s not good for her being trapped over here, Danny. She can’t handle it. Wait. Here she comes. Danny …” Sarah became very quiet. “You gotta do something. You’ve seen the news. People get arrested, shot, trying to cross —” Her voice picked up. “Hey, Kelly, your son’s calling! It was nice talking to you, Danny. Here’s your mom.”
“Danny?” Mom said.
“Hey, Mom,” I said. “How’re you doing?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. Fine.” No way was I going to freak her out with the story of this morning’s shoot-out. “They gave me a little time to make a call this morning, and I thought I’d check in. How are you?”
“I’m good!” she said. “Better than I have been in a long time. Danny, I’m going home. I’ve paid a friend to drive me to the border, and I think I know a good place to sneak —”
“Mom, no.”
“But Danny, I can’t handle —”
“Mom, you can’t —”
“— being away from home any longer. I need to get home. I need to get back to work. I really think I have it worked out and —”
“Mom, listen to me! Be quiet and listen! Be quiet!” I closed my eyes and pressed my comm to my forehead, taking deep breaths to calm down. I could hear her sniffling on the line. She was crying. “It’s not safe for you to cross the border. You’ll never make it.”
“I’ll never … make it if I … if I have to stay here,” Mom choked out her words through heavy sobs. “You don’t understand, Danny. I have to come home. I have to.”
Neither of us said anything for a long time. I pressed my fist to the side of my head, trying to figure out what to do.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, fine. You need to come home. I get it. But I’ll come get you, Mom. I’ll bring the Beast and I’ll pick you up. I’ve been working the border for weeks, and I know how to get you across safely. Okay?”
It sounded stupid even as I said it. Leaving Idaho was easy. Trying to sneak through the Fed blockade and back across the border into Idaho was nearly suicidal. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t let my mom try this alone and on foot. She’d have a better chance with me in the Beast.
“Really, Danny?” she asked. “I don’t know —”
“Stay where you are for now. I’m on my way to get you. I’ll bring you home, Mom. I promise.”
* * *
A few hours later I was approved for a three-day pass. I hadn’t screwed around putting in a leave request and waiting for it to go up the chain of command. I just called Governor Montaine directly and told him I needed a few days to settle some things at home now that my mom was trapped in Washington. He bought my story, sent the leave orders to my unit, and ordered my chain of command to give me a gas ration card. I know I pissed off the captain and first sergeant by jumping rank, but I didn’t care. I’d do anything to protect my mother.
I told the truth to Sergeant Kemp, though. A guy learned real quick not to talk about too much personal stuff in the Army. Lots of times, the other guys had a sick sense of humor and would give you a lot of shit about your family or girlfriend if you were stupid enough to tell them about it. But Kemp seemed like a guy I
could trust.
“You really think you can get over the border and back?” he said.
“I’m going to try,” I said.
“As your team leader, I should let the chain know what you’re up to. They’d put a stop to it. I doubt even the governor would approve your leave if he knew what you were really planning to do.”
“No way you or anyone else can stop me, ’cept if you put me in handcuffs or something. I have to do this.”
Sergeant Kemp clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I spun away, thinking he meant to keep me from going. But he smiled and pulled his hand back. “I know we couldn’t stop you.” He held out his hand. “So I wanted to wish you good luck. Bring her home safe.”
“Thanks, Sergeant. I will.” I shook his hand. “And keep your comm on, will you? In case I need a little extra help getting back.”
“You got it,” he said. “Give me a call when you’re coming home.”
Having said my goodbyes and leaving my Guard-issued M4 with my unit, I climbed into the Beast and started her up. Then I drove down the highway to begin my most dangerous mission yet.
—• A spokesman for Governor Montaine’s office has confirmed earlier reports of hostilities on the Washington-Idaho border in northern Idaho. Montaine claims that early yesterday morning, a small group of federal troops crossed the border into Idaho. The troops were repelled by soldiers from the Idaho National Guard, including Private First Class Daniel Wright, who is already wanted by the federal government for his alleged involvement in the shootings in Boise. The White House admits that one federal soldier is recovering from wounds received in this action, but declined to comment further on the incident, particularly on the squad’s reason for crossing the border. •—
